


Chain My Wrist Down Too (A Sinking Ship For You)

by ettedab



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And possibly DRAGONS hehe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Auror Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, I am not sure yet we'll see LMAO, M/M, Miscommunication, Toxic Relationship, fights and making up, kind of a case fic?, possible cheating fic?, secrets and lies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21779311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettedab/pseuds/ettedab
Summary: Harry wonders the last time he’d felt like home, and the first time he’d felt oddly detached from the spaces surrounding him now, the same ones where he’d leaned Draco against and kissed him with all his being. He wonders when had the happy times turned into memories.What are you supposed to do when the love you had just isn't there anymore?A story of falling in love, and out of it. Are some loves worth saving? Is theirs worth it?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I've always been a drarry fan but this is the first time I'll post a work of my own. Hope you'll like it and stay with me throughout the journey :D The title is from a song, "Die Trying" by Michl. You could check it out in youtube. It basically summarizes what this fic will be all about.
> 
> P.S. I'm a med student so updates might be irregular but I assure you that I'll complete this story. After all, I have so many ideas for this one :)

Harry wakes up to the warmth of sunshine on his face and an arm draped over his chest.

For a second he feels disoriented, the world suddenly thrown off its axis.  _ It can’t be. _ And yet he’s silently hoping that the solid weight over him won’t disappear like a remnant of a dream.

It doesn’t. A shallow intake of breath and several cursory blinks later, Harry could still feel it there, pinning him like gravity pulling him down the center. 

He finally glances down, his eyes meeting unblemished porcelain skin that glows faintly under the honeyed hues of morning sunlight filtering through the lace curtains. He knows that if he turns his head to the side, he’ll feel the sharp jut of a pointed chin press against his forehead, or appreciate in close proximity the elegant column of a milky white neck. Harry is suddenly taken by waves of unadulterated  _ want _ \- he wants to touch every inch of skin displayed before him, wants to place reverent kisses on every surface that wordlessly spoke of years of love, wants to repeat it over and over until the world collapses and all that remains is  _ them _ . 

But he doesn’t. 

_ This is enough _ , Harry tells himself. And it is. He doesn’t move an inch, not wanting to wake up Draco and put a premature end to this rare moment. He’ll have this for as long as he could, and add it to the certain space at the back of his mind where anything Draco-related resides, where he could turn the memories around and over his head in private until the longing in his chest becomes a dull throb that he could manage to ignore. 

It all ends when a disgruntled voice pierces through the air, sharp with a barely-concealed accusation. “How long have you been awake?”

Draco pulls away from him before he could even get a word out and sits up unceremoniously, the blanket pooling over his lap. Harry follows the motion with his eyes. Even without his glasses he could see the sharp angles and smooth planes that make Draco Malfoy the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes on, and having him here beside him, and yet untouchable and feeling so far away,  _ hurts _ .

So Harry does what he’s been doing for the past few months--he looks away. 

He turns to his side, facing the glass-paned windows and away from Draco before he could notice the rapid breaths threatening to shake his whole body.  _ Not that he would care. _ He tries to count in his head, anything to pass the time by.  _ I should be used to this by now _ , he thinks with blurry eyes. 

He feels the bed move, then he hears muffled footsteps thudding quietly on the floor. He knows that Draco has left, most probably on his way to the loo. Harry finds everything easier now--breathing through his nose, calming down the beat of his heart, blinking tears off his eyes. With one last sigh he pushes himself up, fingers snatching up the blanket and folding it in a neat square before setting it aside on the pillows. He stretches languidly as he stands on his feet, slowly trudging his way out of the room and down the stairs. He feels the cool air against his naked back and seeping through the thin fabric of his pyjamas that hangs low on his hips as he nears the kitchen. 

Before, he does it on purpose, because it would only take one look before Draco’s lips and hands would worship every inch of his body, demanding Harry to just give and  _ give _ . Now, Harry’s just too lazy to care to put on some clothes.

It’s not like Draco would appreciate the display anyway.

He’d just finished off his toast when Draco emerges through the entryway, sleek hair pulled back and posh clothes donned on--today he’s wearing charcoal slacks, a crisp white button down shirt tucked beneath a silver blazer that brings out the color of his eyes. All he could do is watch from the corner of his eye as Draco stops by the island counter Harry’s leaning at, and for one blissful moment he thought of Draco getting the Earl Grey tea that Harry had placed just for him over the marble top. 

Harry would always make it for him in the morning, and Draco would always leave it untouched. 

It hadn’t been like that before, though.  _ I love it when you do this. Making tea for me. _

Grey eyes skim past the teacup as if it isn’t even there, his hand reaching out to the fresh copy of the  _ Daily Prophet _ lying a few inches away from it. Then he walks up by the refrigerator, pulling out a fresh apple before swinging the door shut. Harry decides to speak before he could think much of it. “Busy day at Gringotts?” 

Draco doesn’t bother looking at him as he replies with an acerbic tone. “Yes, so don’t wait up for me later.” And with that he disapparates with an audible  _ pop _ . 

For a moment Harry just stands there, staring at the spot where Draco had just been a while ago. And then he picks up the porcelain teacup, the antique set fitting perfectly in his hand, and tips its contents over the sink. He opens the faucet to wash off the remaining dredges in the cup. The sound of rushing water steadies him, just as well as the sight of the tea disappearing in rivulets down the drain. Maybe it’s the routine that calms him, or the familiar feel of resignation that settles in his bones. His mind is blank and he doesn’t think much about it; he places the teacup back on the cupboard, closing it with a resolute  _ thud  _ that echoes in the all-too quiet kitchen _. _ He notices that his hands are shaking.

This is his house, it is Draco’s, it is  _ theirs _ , but is it still home when all he could think about constantly is that it’s not  _ anymore? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!!! LMAO. I'm so sorry for the late update. I've seriously underestimated how hectic med school can be, and before I knew months flew by and then the virus happened. The break has been helpful to detox the stress out of me and give me ample time to go back to my neglected fics. So here it is, hope you like it. COMMENTS/REVIEWS PLEASE, I'd really like to hear from you <3

So far it’s been a monotonous day, several memos zooming over Harry’s head as he addressed the issues requiring his utmost attention one by one. It had just struck a quarter to four, his back aching as he bent over his desk to peruse over the written report on the latest raid on an illegal potions warehouse in Surrey, when there’s a knock on his door. It takes a flick of his wrist to dismantle the wards on his office after recognizing the magical signature. The door swings open, revealing the cool blue gaze of Alexander Selwyn. 

Even the mere act of standing by his doorway makes the blond man cut an imposing figure, but it’s something Harry’s been immune to after several years of exposure.  _ Ang being with Draco,  _ his mind supplies before he hastily tucks it away, feeling the dredges of pain in its wake. He leans back in his chair as Alexander strides forward in confident, lithe steps, closing the door with an elegant push of his hand. “Deputy Head Auror Potter.” Every syllable of the title and name drips with mock respect. 

It makes Harry smile before acknowledging the man back. “Deputy Chief Unspeakable Selwyn. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence today?” 

His formality’s regarded with cool disdain, but then it gives off in a flash like a flimsy mask in place, revealing pure amusement underneath. “Am I not allowed to visit my old friend anymore?” Alexander hovers by the chair in front of Harry’s desk before promptly closing the few distance left and perches on the edge of Harry’s wooden table. Harry just raises an eyebrow at him, grabbing the few parchments out of the way before it could get crumpled. “And before you ask, Saul Croaker doesn’t have an inkling of my whereabouts right now. I think it would be most beneficial if you don’t tell me off to my superior.”

Harry lets out an amused snort, the image of a robust man clad in an all-black Unspeakable uniform taking shape in his mind, with his signature ebony cape that makes him look more like the head of a vampire clan than the head of the Department of Mysteries. “The Head Unspeakable is a nightmare on the best of days, so I don’t see any sort of interaction happening between us in the near future.” 

Alexander doesn’t answer. Instead he leans his body forward, stretching the firm line of his back and the front of his robes gaping slightly open and showing a bit of pale skin. Harry could hear a wisp of a voice in his head, one belonging to the man in front of him.  _ I know how I look every time I do this.  _ The same voice brings him back to the present. “How could I make it up to you, then?” 

Sometimes, if Harry tilts his head sideways, the pale blue eyes gazing at him would turn a lovely shade of stormy grey. He wonders if this has been one of the many reasons why he’d found Alexander attractive before he and Draco had gotten on with each other. So he does, turning his head in just the right angle and  _ there it is _ , and for a moment he feels overwhelmed at the sight of not-Draco standing in front of him, a smirk in place and the depths of his eyes swirling with emotions. The illusion breaks as Alexander moves back, a slight frown replacing his previous expression. “I know that look, Harry.” 

He flinches at the sombre tone and casual use of his first name. Harry drums the pads of his fingertips across the gleaming surface of his desk. He doesn’t want to think about it, much less open up and  _ talk _ . “What brings you here, Selwyn?” 

It’s a crude attempt of deflection, but Alexander takes it, his face slipping back to a professional one. “Granger wants to reopen the Avery case.” Alexander’s gloved hand produces a thick folder from the inside of his cloak, dumping the contents on Harry’s desk with a heavy  _ thump _ . “As you know, today’s interdepartmental meeting consisted only of the department heads. It’s the only reason why I had gotten hold of a letter supposedly for Croaker.” 

Harry cuts him off before he could get further. “So let me get this straight--you’re here because you’ve snooped on your boss’ letter? Knowing that it could be grounds for demotion, or possibly unemployment?” He doubts Croak will do the latter, because Alexander is exceptional in his work, whatever it is that they do in that peculiar department. At 26, he’s the youngest Deputy Chief Unspeakable in history with a stellar record, and his achievement almost rivals that of Harry’s, who’d obtained the position of Deputy Head Auror at 25. 

Instead of being mortified, Alexander bears a proud expression that makes Harry want to throttle him. “Worried about me, aren’t you? No need for that, you know how I do  _ things _ .” He stresses the last word with a wink before continuing. “Apparently there’s been a breakout in Gringotts for some time, but not the usual kind. It’ll be absolute mayhem once the Prophet gets wind of this.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Harry is perfectly aware that it’s intended for dramatic effect. “The dragons are disappearing, one by one. The goblins think it’s the working of a wizard, or several ones with power enough to subdue a mighty creature.”

Harry’s brows furrow at that. “Hermione thinks the Avery family’s behind it?” The scandal had taken a month of newspaper headlines last year- how the well-respected pureblood family, supposedly reformed from the War, had been in shady business with the goblins in the hopes of assembling another group of aspiring Death Eaters. The backlash had not only affected the said family but the goblins as a whole as well, so much so that it came to a point where the Ministry considered the execution of the wicked creatures and the temporary closing of Gringotts. If Harry hadn’t spoken up for their rights, they would have been done for.  _ I don’t want another war. _

Harry shudders in revulsion just at the mere thought of it. Even now, the relations between the Wizarding World and the goblins is in the works. He pulls his thoughts together and voices out the less pressing matter. “Isn’t that within our jurisdiction?” He tries to keep out the indignation in his voice. The fact that the Department of Mysteries isn’t obliged to answer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has irked him more times than he could possibly count. 

Judging by the glint in those blue eyes, he’d failed spectacularly. “You know I couldn’t tell you how we’re involved. But the reason why this news hasn’t surfaced yet is because of Croaker. From what I’ve deduced, the Goblins and the department have been talking for some time, and it’s a top secret case that even _ I  _ am not made aware of.” The statement comes out in an annoyed huff. “Usually Croaker would’ve given me the details.” 

Harry feels his head start to throb at the possible implications, and he speaks hurriedly or else he’ll implode. “It’s one thing to keep it from the DMLE, and another to hide it from your own department. Merlin, the whole sodding Ministry, to be honest.” Not to mention the dragons.  _ Fuck. _ “I  _ fucking _ hate politics.” He must’ve made quite a face, because Alexander lets out a laugh, loud enough that it echoes throughout the confined space of his office. 

And then suddenly Harry can’t take it anymore; how Alexander _almost_ sounds like Draco, how he'd missed Draco’s smiles and laughter and getting a sliver of it on someone else's face. He stands up abruptly, pushing the chair back on its hind legs. He walks off towards the towering bookshelf, but turns on his heel at the last second and retraces his steps back. 

Alexander lets him pace to his heart’s content. He should ask him to leave already, seeing that he isn’t in any state to delve too much on the case at hand despite its urgency, but he couldn’t bear it to be alone anymore, shouldering the weight of everything all at once. 

The silence morphs into something that’s too heavy to diffuse, but the Unspeakable breaks it with just a few words. “Something’s wrong.” 

Harry comes to an abrupt halt, the word bouncing on his head repeatedly.  _ Wrong _ .  _ Everything’s wrong. What am I supposed to do? _ He’s startled out of his reverie by strong hands tugging insistently on his clenched fists. He doesn’t even recall doing that. Alexander pries them open, unfurling the fingers one by one with a gentleness that Harry wouldn’t usually associate with the likes of him. He looks up to meet worried blue eyes. “Tell me.” 

He swallows down the lump that forms on his throat. He could feel the admission on the tip of his tongue, but saying it out loud makes it real.  _ I don’t want it to be.  _

But Harry’s tired of the pretenses, worn out from months of pretending that everything’s just fine, that it’s just a phase that couples normally go through, that they’ll get over it and come out stronger than before. He could feel the fissures of their relationship cracking along the seams, and with just the slightest push it would just  _ fall apart _ . He breathes out all his doubts and insecurities in one word. “Draco.” 

The grip on his hand tightens with the mention of that name. Harry pulls his hands away and walks past Alexander, sitting down once again. He could feel a blue gaze land heavily on him, so he speaks again. “I really don’t know.”  _ I wish I did. _ “We’re living in the same house, but it’s like I’m with a stranger. We’re talking in monosyllables and he won’t if I don’t start the conversation. He’d flinch away when I tried to touch him so I stopped. I feel unwanted, and I wanted to ask why, but I’m so afraid that-” He takes a shuddering breath, wincing at how helpless he sounds. He turns sideways and sees Alexander looking at him with an indecipherable expression on his face, his eyes dark and hooded. But he’s listening, and Harry just wants to let it all out. “Sometimes I think about breaking it off, you know? But every time I did, I just  _ couldn’t _ . I can’t be with anyone else. Is it fucked up to love him despite all these? That I still feel the same way, even though-“  _ He’s not. Draco doesn’t, not anymore. Because what else could it be?  _

He hears a sigh before Alexander steps forward until he’s only a few inches away from him. Harry has to tilt his head up from this angle to be able to look up at the man. “Tell him, then. For both of your sakes. I think he’ll listen, even though he’s pretending not to. Ask him if he still loves you. Surely he has an answer to that.” Alexander brings a hand up, his fingers tracing the faint outline of the scar on his forehead, and Harry almost shivers at the reverent touch. “And if he won’t budge, then leave. I don’t know for how long—it’s up to you. See if he’ll reach out to you after days or weeks of separation.” Those fingers are now tracing the side of his face, a fingertip grazing the back of his ear. Before Harry could move away, the very same hand clutches tight on his shoulder, keeping him in place. “You deserve better.” 

Then Alexander snatches his hand away, his face devoid of any emotion as he steps back. “Ask Granger about the case. I think she’ll be back by tomorrow.” And with that he saunters away without a backward glance, the door closing behind him with a muted  _ click _ . Harry frowns in confusion.  _ What the hell just happened?  _

He stares at nothingness until it strikes seven in the evening. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Criticisms highly appreciated!! I won't bite! You could even suggest some scenes you'd want to see in the future :) Or how you'd like the story to turn out hehe I'm very open-minded :)


End file.
